


Be Good to Me, I Beg of Him

by hobotang



Category: The Witcher (TV) RPF
Genre: (kind of), Angst, Biting, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Bottom Henry Cavill, Dom/sub Undertones, Face-Fucking, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Henry is an oblivious idiot, Love Bites, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow(ish) Burn, Sub Henry Cavill, and Joey is too cute for his own good, everybody is bi because I'm in charge here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:47:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23456494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobotang/pseuds/hobotang
Summary: “And yet, here we are.”Joey’s voice is soft, the words spoken barely above a whisper, and Henry feels something tucked-away well up in his chest. It’s a beat before he remembers he’s meant to respond, but all he manages to produce is a strangled sound around the lump in this throat.(Title is from The Amazing Devil's "That Unwanted Animal.")
Relationships: Joey Batey/Henry Cavill
Comments: 64
Kudos: 194





	1. And Yet...

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, this is far longer than it has any right to be – that’s been the case for every piece of writing I’ve ever produced. This is chapter one of three, at the very least, because I can't seem to stop myself. Sorry about that. Secondly, please tell me I’m not the only lonely bi who’s spending my lockdown replaying that bathtub scene (the _iconic_ bathtub scene, let’s be real – sorry Yennefer, I can’t resist a soft, yearning bard) over and over until it’s all I see when I close my eyes.
> 
> Obviously, I own none of the characters in this work, and wish no difficulty or disrespect as a result of its creation. I’m just a sucker for mutual pining and two lovesick idiots who take a while to get their shit together – that goes for Geralt and Jaskier, as well as Henry and Joey. 
> 
> The explicit label is for later chapters, because this is gonna get saucy. I'll add more tags (and perhaps characters) as they pop up, I know they're looking bare at the moment but I don't really have much to tag.
> 
> Nobody asked for this, really. It’s loosely based off Joey’s remark in [this interview](https://youtu.be/Oyh0t117t0U?t=90) this interview that Henry cuts his lines because he’s lazy. As usual, though, my impetus for writing was that I was trying to find Henry/Joey fics and couldn’t find nearly as many as I wanted to read, so – after reading every available fic twice – I made my own. And now, here we are. Enjoy…whatever it is I’ve managed to create.
> 
> (See? I wasn’t kidding about always writing too much.)

“And yet, here we are.”

Joey’s voice is soft, the words spoken barely above a whisper, and Henry feels something tucked-away well up in his chest. It’s a beat before he remembers he’s meant to respond, but all he manages to produce is a strangled sound around the lump in this throat. The director, Alex, calls cut, and Henry takes advantage of the slight bustle of camera people resetting to clear his throat and take what he hopes is a subtle deep breath. When he catches Joey’s eyes on him, it’s clear it wasn’t nearly as subtle as he’d aimed for.

“You good?” Joey asks, his tone denoting only concern. Henry fights against that very same wave of emotion that fucked up the take in the first place and nods shakily.

“Yeah, fine, just…forgot I had a line,” he jokes.

Joey laughs. “Delivered mine so well I made you forget yourself, huh?”

He takes that moment to fix up his hair, saving Henry from having to answer, and it’s a good thing because Henry’s not sure he’d have managed anything other than a reverent, “Yes.” He’s watching Joey attempt to flatten the top of his hair – the humidity on set makes it fluff up adorably – when Alex puts a hand on his shoulder, startling him. The increasingly tepid bath water sloshes a bit, betraying his jumpiness.

“Alright, Henry?” Alex asks, nabbing a lighter off one of the crew to re-light a candle that’s gone out on the dresser. Henry grunts out an agreement. “Good,” Alex exclaims, spinning around and smiling cheekily at him before directing his attention to the bard. “Joey, mate, that delivery was perfect. We’re gonna go from the ‘monster hunting nonsense’ line, see if you can get it a bit…slower, if you know what I mean. Or, no – keep the speed in the lines, just leave the gaps between lines longer, yeah?”

Joey nods, mouthing his lines to himself as he does so. Alex quirks an eyebrow at Henry, and it’s only the knowledge that the disturbance to the bathwater will once again give him away that stops Henry from flipping Alex off. They’d talked about this scene a few days ago – Alex had told Henry he’d need to taper off the water again, which Henry had anticipated but was definitely not looking forward to – and Henry will forever blame it on the early-morning gym session and the long day of shooting that he’d let slip he was nervous about the scene because it would be so intense.

“Intense?” Alex had asked. “What’s intense about it?”

“Well, it’s…you know,” Henry had floundered, but Alex didn’t let him off, and eventually he’d said something along the lines of, “Being that close to Joey while practically naked will be weird.”

Unfortunately, Alex had understood _exactly_ why Henry would feel weird about that, and has spent the last few days mocking him mercilessly for it. The fact that they’re on set in front of nearly the whole crew apparently hasn’t stopped him from sending meaningful looks Henry’s way, gaze flickering between Henry and Joey in a move reminiscent of a bloody teen romantic comedy.

Henry sighs quietly, running his hands over his face and dipping his shoulders under the water to keep his skin wet. They start again from Jaskier asking what Geralt wants for himself, and Joey follows Alex’s directions perfectly. The lines are in Jaskier’s characteristically quick tread, but Joey lets the silences hang just a little longer. When he gets to that one damned line, Henry finds himself shooting off a quick, “Hmm,” rather than what was scripted. He covers it by just moving on, only later rationalising that it’s actually quite like Geralt to _not_ let the silence drag – in the moment, he just wants to move on and avoid making a fool of himself again. They get the take, Alex graciously accepting Henry’s dropped line – _thank Christ_ – and finally Henry can get out of the damn bath. Leah, one of the makeup ladies, brings him a towel and leaves a robe for him on the dresser, and Henry waits until everyone’s mostly preoccupied with packing away before standing up. He groans as he does so – sitting down for so long was starting to make his ass ache, but having to get up again means the heavy ache in his muscles from his workout this morning makes a roaring comeback.

Of course, he can’t have _everything_ he wants – even though everyone else is too busy to look, the sudden noise of cascading water makes Joey turn around, and Henry’s embarrassed to find himself almost blushing at the way Joey’s eyes lock firmly onto his torso. He shouldn’t feel bashful about it, he’s done enough shirtless scenes to last him his entire life, and he’s wearing trunks so it’s not like he’s _naked_ but…well, with Joey’s eyes on him like that, he certainly feels vulnerable. There have been times when he’s used moments like this to show off, but he’s feeling too raw right now to even think about dragging it out. He turns away and dries off quickly, avoiding the hair, then pulls the robe on and draws it tight.

The long hair immediately starts dripping water down his back, but he doesn’t want to touch it – he knows how much work has gone into the wig, and he’s worried that even something as simple as drying the ends off will fuck it up somehow. Thankfully, however, they’re finished for the day, which means he can scrub at his face the way he’s wanted to for the past hour – he doesn’t like his face being wet, especially not the feeling of sweat prickling at his skin.

When he finally pulls the towel away from his face, he sees Joey still standing by the tub, a weirdly distant look on his face. Henry takes a minute to marvel at the fact that Joey might be the only man currently alive who can pull off a shirt like the one he’s wearing – the chest hair coming through the unbuttoned collar certainly helps – before he wanders over.

“Thinking about getting in?” Henry asks, smirking as Joey’s gaze snaps up from the bath. The man shrugs, laughing.

“Wasn’t planning on it. I know where you’ve been,” he counters playfully, and Henry laughs properly for what feels like the first time in hours. He nods towards the exit, and they walk together to the makeup trailer.

“Long bloody day, hey?” The weariness is evident in Joey’s voice, now that the cameras are gone, and Henry hums in agreement. “Well, longer for you, gym junkie.”

“You say that like _I_ decided on the gym,” Henry gripes. It’s like Joey’s words have reminded his body of just how long the day has been, and the ache in his muscles settles just a little bit heavier. “Speaking of which, I’ll be glad to have a fucking drink now that that scene’s over.”

Joey casts him a sympathetic look. “It’s stupid that they make you do that,” he says, running his fingers through his hair. It’s still fluffy from the steam on set, somehow even more so now that they’re outside. “I know it’s for _the aesthetic_ ,” he says, the sarcasm dripping from his voice, “but it’s borderline torture.”

Henry shrugs, even though he’s somewhat inclined to agree. “You get used to it.”

“You don’t.” Joey’s voice has temporarily lost its weariness. Replacing it is a ferocity that makes Henry’s heartrate thrum, and has him thankful that the rage isn’t directed towards him. “You get broken down, is what happens. Listen, I love Alex, but the fact that he made you go without water for _three days_ is bloody brutal. _And_ you have to do it again for that other bathtub scene – by the way, it’s hilarious that you spend so much time in baths on this show, that must be a luxury – but it’s awful when you have to dehydrate so badly before you even get there. And it’s not like it’s necessary, I mean –”

Joey stops himself just as they reach the makeup trailer, and Henry notices Joey’s face is slightly flushed – from the cold air or the venom in his voice, he’s not sure. Henry smiles at him, hoping his face shows that he appreciates Joey’s concern, because once again he’s got this fucking frog in his throat that won’t let him say it out loud.

“Anyway,” Joey mutters, running a hand through his hair again and _fuck_ , Henry wishes he’d stop doing that. It’s already been an absurdly long day, and with how tired he is he’s liable to do something stupid like reach out and touch Joey’s hair himself. “At least now you can actually hydrate, right? Might help with the muscle aches, too.”

It’s touching that he’s obviously noticed Henry’s slight hobble – it was legs and glutes this morning, and he’s going to be feeling it for a few days yet. Henry nods at Joey’s unfairly kind expression.

“I’m having dinner with a friend at the pub tonight, too, so looking forward to getting some _proper_ drinks in, too.”

Joey’s smile brightens for a second before his mouth turns downwards slightly. Henry’s about to ask what’s wrong when he gets called in by the makeup ladies, who finally free him from the damn wig. Joey goes off to his own trailer to change, and by the time Henry’s let out of the chair it looks like Joey’s gone home. Disappointed, Henry finally puts some clothes on, doing his best to fix his hair after it’s spent all day plastered under the wig. He’s not too bothered – he’s having dinner with Connor anyway, an old mate from the gym, so no need to spruce up too much. As he tidies up, his mind drifts back to the way Joey’s smile had soured earlier. He hopes he hasn’t done something to upset him, but in fairness, it’s been a long day for everyone; Joey probably just wanted to go home.

Henry really hopes that’s the case.


	2. The Heart is a Muscle, and Mine's Working Overtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So is Connor a friend?”
> 
> The way Anya asks makes it clear there’s a second part to the question, an ‘or…?’ Henry wonders why she’s so interested – and why Joey is suddenly looking at him so keenly.
> 
> Oh. _Oh._ Right then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s probably self-evident that I have no idea how a filming set works – all I know are tales of the wonders of craft services, so I took that and ran with it. This was originally meant to be a longish one-shot, but apparently since I split it up into chapters my brain has decided it’s going to be a long, torturous slow burn. So, buckle up for a fair bit more of Henry being oblivious!
> 
> Also, this hasn’t been beta-read (it’s barely been proof-read, if I’m honest), so all mistakes are resolutely my own.
> 
> (And for reference, the name Ailbhe is pronounced like ‘Alva.’ The names of various cast members have mostly come from Henry’s Insta posts – that’s right, sometimes I do [minimal] research!)

Henry clambers into the makeup trailer the next morning with a groan, barely catching the door before it slams shut behind him. His whole body feels like it’s on fire, a combination of yesterday morning’s gym session and last night’s drinking catching up to him with a vengeance. He and Connor had spent far longer at the pub than they’d meant to, and Henry had forgotten that three days of dehydration shouldn’t be chased with beers upon beers upon beers. It was a miracle he managed to peel himself out of bed this morning.

Ailbhe beckons him over to the chair, sparing him a sympathetic smile before she starts slicking his hair back, prepping for the wig cap. Kal does the rounds to greet everyone before settling at Henry’s feet, plopping down with a grateful grunt as though he didn’t just wake up an hour ago. Usually while Ailbhe and Jacqui set about whitening his skin and getting his wig on, Henry’s practising his lines. Today, however, he uses the time (and the unintentional head massage from Jacqui) to catch some extra sleep, willing his head to stop pounding quite so much. He succeeds on the sleep front, not so much on the headache, but he does feel slightly better when Jacqui gently shakes him awake. It’s a little disconcerting to suddenly see Geralt in the mirror – usually he’s more conscious during the transformation. Getting the coloured contacts in is a little more difficult than usual, given that his eyes already feel like they’re lined with sand, but some eye drops help ease the way.

“You alright, love?” Jacqui asks him, reaching down to scratch Kal’s ear now that the beast has arisen from his resting place. Henry grinds out an unconvincing “Yep,” not wanting to risk nodding. Kal’s ears perk up and he trots to the door, through which an unreasonably lively Joey enters a few seconds later.

“Morning all,” he grins, immediately kneeling down to give Kal some thorough pats. Henry can’t help the fond smile that creeps onto his face – anyone who makes his dog happy makes Henry happy, and it certainly helps that Joey makes Henry happy, too.

Connor had teased as much out of him last night, after a few beers and his first solid meal in days had made Henry far more pliable than usual.

“So you like this guy, huh?” he’d asked, masking his smile with another mouthful of steak. Connor had been present for Henry’s first Big Bisexual Panic™ about eight years previous, when Henry had found himself enjoying Luke Evans’ flirtatious energy on the set of _Immortals_ far too much for it to be mere ego-stroking. Though not interested in men himself, Connor was the most level-headed friend Henry had, and he’d talked Henry through the fact that yes, he could like men and women, and no, it wasn’t the end of the world. And _no_ , he shouldn’t try and sleep with his co-star on the first film that might give him his proper big break.

Henry’s immediate instinct was to deny being into Joey, but the beers had made his mouth rubbery and slow, and by the time he’d formulated a proper response it came out as a coy, “Maybe.”

(It was obviously all the beers’ fault – that’s his story and he’s sticking to it, damn it).

He’d ended up confessing how his initial fascination with Joey had morphed into infatuation, and how he’d barely made it through the last scene of the day. Connor had apparently re-evaluated his stance on Henry sleeping with co-stars – or at least considers Henry’s big break to have well and truly broken – and was blessedly sympathetic (though he’d laughed when Henry confessed to skipping lines altogether just to get the scene over with). He’d even offered some sincere advice regarding how to let Joey know how he felt.

Henry had nodded along, never bothering to mention that there was no way in hell he’d be doing that. He appreciated Connor’s efforts nonetheless.

Now, seeing Kal’s blissful expression at having Joey’s dexterous fingers massaging into the fur of his neck, Henry wishes he’d paid at least a little attention to Connor’s advice. Joey shoots him a bright smile, and Henry grins back at him.

“Glad to see someone’s chirpy this morning.”

His voice is gravellier than he’d expected. More than Joey had expected, too, judging by his expression. He looks partly terrified, partly…something else, and Henry instinctively clears his throat.

“Well, someone has to be,” Joey returns. “You look like death warmed up, Cavill, even with the makeup.”

He looks apologetic as soon as he says it, but Henry just laughs.

“Feel like it, too,” he answers honestly. He finally eases himself out of the makeup chair, trying and failing to hide a wince as his tired muscles protest. Kal stands himself up, ready to go wherever his owner is heading, and Joey rises with him.

“At least get yourself some coffee,” Joey says, the care in his voice so genuine it makes Henry’s already aching chest throb dangerously. “Long day today, especially for our resident Witcher.”

He pats Henry twice on the shoulder, then makes his way to the chair and starts chatting with the ladies, which saves Henry from having to formulate a response. He picks up Kal’s leash with the warm imprint of Joey’s hand still tingling on his shoulder, and takes Joey’s advice, heading straight for craft services and pouring himself a black coffee. It’s lukewarm – perfect for sculling, and going right back in for seconds.

* * *

He manages to shake the headache somewhere around midday, and avoids fucking anything up too badly before then. Everything carries on as normal, except for the fact that Joey hovers around him all day, pushing things like paracetamol and warm lunches at him insistently. Despite his feigned eye-rolls, Henry doesn’t mind the attention, especially coming from Joey: having lived by himself for a long time now, and being a man in his thirties who’s always been able to take care of himself, it’s not often he has someone dote on him like this. Truth be told, it’s a little bit nice to be coddled, even if it earns him a few teasing comments from his colleagues.

“Another coffee, Henry?” Joey asks, already on his way to the craft table. Henry nods at the back of Joey’s head – clearly, the man was going to get him one whether he’d said yes or not. He quickly does a visual check-in on Kal, who’s keeping Freya and Lauren company as they sit chatting over their lunch.

“Foot massage, Henry?” Anya asks as she plonks down next to him in a fold-out chair. At his questioning glance she raises an eyebrow, smirking sardonically. “I must have missed the memo that you’d aged thirty years overnight and can no longer fend for yourself.”

Henry snorts – he and Anya have got on since the start of filming, primarily for her dry sarcasm and his willingness to be the butt of the joke, so it was only a matter of time before she started making fun of him for being mothered by Joey. She’s already been making fun of him for favouring Joey for weeks now, and Henry’s not sure whether she realises just how on the mark she is.

“I haven’t lost my common sense overnight, either. I’m a simple man, Anya: someone offers me coffee, I say yes.”

“Helps when the service looks like that,” she muses. Henry’s too tired to do anything but hum in agreement. Thankfully, Joey returns, quelling whatever teasing remark Anya looks primed to throw at Henry.

“Here we are,” Joey says, and Henry accepts his coffee with a grateful smile. “Dark and bitter – like looking in a mirror, I’m sure.”

Henry gasps, mock-affronted. “Didn’t realise it was Insult Henry Day, I’d have marked it on my calendar.”

Not his best, sure, but he’s not exactly feeling his best either. Anya rolls her eyes, and she and Joey share a look.

“Can’t turn up to set looking like a walking corpse and expect to get away with it,” she says. “The pale makeup is meant to make you look _worse_ , not _better_.”

Despite himself, Henry laughs along with them.

“May have gotten carried away last night,” he admits, looking at the ground with a hand on the back of his neck. He misses the way Joey’s amused grin fades, his expression instantly sobering – Anya doesn’t.

“Forgot that three days’ dehydration plus…somewhere around twelve pints would equal death.”

“You’re a fool,” Anya says affectionately. “Who were you drinking with? And _please_ don’t tell me you were drinking alone, I already pity you enough.”

“Definitely not alone,” Henry insists. “My mate Connor, he and I used to go to the gym together. Met him while I was training for _Immortals_ , and now I can’t seem to get rid of him.”

He watches Joey’s gaze leave the spot just beside his feet and meet Anya’s, and out of the corner of his eye sees Anya return the look. He misses most things that pass between the two of them on a good day anyway, so today he’s got no chance of deciphering what’s going on.

“Is Connor cute?”

Anya’s face is nothing but curious as she asks, so Henry gives her a genuine answer.

“Handsome, sure, but wouldn’t say cute. Buzzcuts and muscles don’t really classify as ‘cute”.”

“I dunno,” she mutters thoughtfully, “I saw you in _Sand Castle_ , you were definitely cute.”

He snorts, amused, and hears Joey hum thoughtfully.

“So is Connor a friend?”

The way Anya asks makes it clear there’s a second part to the question, an ‘or…?’ Henry wonders why she’s so interested – and why Joey is suddenly looking at him so keenly.

Oh. _Oh_. Right then.

“Just a friend,” he says tersely, almost adding, “a friend who’s _not_ into guys,” before deciding that would be needlessly cruel. He’s suddenly very keen to _not_ be having this conversation anymore: Anya has had a boyfriend for a long time, which means she’s not asking for herself, so Henry’s very happy to leave her and Joey discussing Connor by themselves.

Anya hums thoughtfully, levelling him with a scrutinising look. Henry finishes the last of his coffee and uses getting another as his excuse to leave. As he walks past Joey, though, he notices he’s also finished, and his mother raised him better than to just leave it.

“Refill?” he asks, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Instead of handing Henry his mug, Joey nods and jumps up, falling into step beside the (slightly) taller man as they head to the craft table. Henry’s surprised but he doesn’t comment, and they end up walking in silence. It isn’t necessarily odd for Henry to be quiet, but it feels weird for Joey to let the silence hang, and Henry sneaks a look at him to check he’s alright. He looks…well, happy. He’s got this little smile hitched at the corners of his lips, and it’s so barely-there that he obviously doesn’t realise he’s doing it. It makes that thing in Henry’s chest well up again, but it sits heavily – Henry feels like a teenager again, bitter than his crush is more interested in his friend than he is in him.

_It’s probably for the best_ , he reasons sadly. Henry’s never been so good at the serious relationship thing, and having a fling with a co-star when he knows it’s unlikely to last is pretty idiotic – particularly on a television show that’s expected to go for seven seasons.

When they finally reach the coffee thermos, Henry pours Joey’s first, then his own. He sees Joey breathe in deeply, and his flight reflex kicks in immediately.

“Gotta run,” he mutters, sounding breathless for some reason. “Lines to rehearse.”

Joey frowns. “Wanna rehearse together?” he asks, sounding hopeful.

Henry feels awful for being an asshole – especially after being pampered all day – but he genuinely thinks he’ll go insane if he has to look at Joey’s secret little smile for another second.

“Nah, I’ll be fine. Sorry,” he instinctively offers at Joey’s barely-hidden wince, “just…need a minute to get my head back together, you know? Don’t want to waste your time.”

He beats a hasty retreat before Joey can reply, almost walking straight into a cluster of crewmembers in his rush. Kal bounds up beside him out of nowhere, and as usual Henry’s grateful for his company. When he reaches the relative shelter of his trailer, he lets out a breath he’s basically been holding since getting his coffee. Even in his drained, hungover state, Henry is appalled to feel the sting of tears at his eyes, and the hot flush of his skin that always accompanies them. _This is ridiculous_ , he thinks, _I’m a grown fucking man nearly crying about an unrequited crush. Get it together, Cavill_.

He takes a deep, sobering breath, following it with a hearty swig of his coffee – still lukewarm, as usual. He thinks about calling Connor to whine, but admits that he might have overrun his life advice quota last night. Ordinarily he’d seek Anya out for a bit of idle conversation, maybe a laugh or two, but that’s obviously not an option today, so instead he actually does what he came here to do – he rehearses his lines.

If he happens to avoid the scenes with Geralt and Jaskier, well, that’s his prerogative.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Henry’s an idiot. Yes, his characterisation is mildly based on my own personality. Give me a break! I promise he’ll start coming to some vague realisations soon, but I’m having fun making him as oblivious as possible for now. He’s too pretty to also be smart, that would just be unfair (yes, I’m aware in real life he’s actually very smart too, but fiction is my vehicle for righting the wrongs of the world, and my first battle is stopping Henry Cavill from being literally perfect).
> 
> The next update might take a little longer, but I finished this chapter and got excited, so my plan for an upload schedule went out the window. As usual, please let me know your thoughts. I really do thrive on feedback, especially since social isolation has made it basically my only form of human contact.


	3. You Try So Loud to Love Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Fine. If I promise to talk to Joey about my friend’s dating situation, will you leave me alone?”
> 
> Anya goggles at Henry for what feels like ages, before bursting into astonished laughter.
> 
> “Oh my god,” she manages between giggles, “you really need to talk to him.”

Henry manages about an hour’s break before he’s called back on set. In that time, he receives no fewer than four texts from Alex Garcia and two from Connor, both of whom are saying something along the lines of, ‘Get your head out of your ass’ (he also gets one from his brother: a picture of his nephew, who got into his mum’s lipstick and managed to smear the entire tube on his face. It provides a much-needed boost to his mood).

On the plus side, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt more prepared for a scene, so no more dropped lines today. They’re filming the scene when Geralt visits Yennefer’s tent during the dragon hunt, which is mercifully filmed in an interior set at the studio – it’s cold as hell in Hungary, and the outdoor scenes are always a struggle to get through. It isn’t a sex scene necessarily, but it does involve he and Anya in bed together, almost naked. Which is a little awkward, sure, though the good news is that the scene involves a lot of hushed conversation, which is exactly what Henry needs – his head isn’t pounding anymore, but he still doesn’t feel particularly good.

The scene is a funny one to film – for the characters, it’s a lot of yearning, long looks and meaningful half-confessions. In between takes, however, Anya makes fun of Henry for looking like shit, while he just tries desperately to resist the urge to flop down on the bed. Charlotte, the episode director, makes them redo the kiss about ten times, constantly wanting it slower and more desperate – Henry wants to remark that ‘slow’ and ‘desperate’ don’t often go hand-in-hand, but it’s not worth the bickering that would ensue, so he does his best to follow orders.

It’s distressingly easy to slip into his own yearning, to pretend those purple contacts are a little icier, a little bluer. Pretend it’s someone else’s teeth tugging at his lower lip. Henry’s usually quite good at convincing himself he’s attracted to his co-stars, at least for the duration of shooting – it’s really not that hard to do, and it helps actually sell the scene, but today he’s got far too much on his mind (admittedly, most of it Joey). It almost feels rude to Anya to be pretending he’s not kissing her, but the little digs she gives him when the cameras aren’t trained on them ease the guilt.

“You know,” Anya mutters as she’s pulling her top back on to reset the scene, spinning around to let Henry half-lace it back up, “for someone who’s pushing forty, you really can be incredibly stupid.”

Henry frowns at the back of her head, taps her shoulder when he’s finished lacing.

“First of all, I’ve got a few years before I hit forty,” he says huffily. “Anyway, what exactly are you accusing me of?”

“Being an idiot,” she shoots back with a smile. “I thought that was obvious.”

Charlotte calls for quiet, and Henry forces his exasperation back into stony inexpression. He tries to put the conversation from his mind for now and slip into a real-but-not-real lust for Yennefer, but there’s a part of his mind that tells him to pretend it’s Joey, and suddenly that’s all he’s doing.

“Cut!” Charlotte calls, unnecessarily loud in the smallish set when they finally get the close-ups on the kiss right. Henry takes a second before opening his eyes, knowing that his little fantasy will be shattered when he does. “Perfect, that was perfect. Right you two, give us a minute to reposition the cameras, then get your kits off and in the bed.”

Henry remembers being made fun of in a junket for _Immortals_ when he’d purportedly ruined the romance of sex scenes – he wonders if people realise that directors are just as brusque about them as the actors, if not more so. He and Anya back themselves into a corner of the set to give the crew space to set up the next shot, and Anya laughs at the awkwardness of it all – her top’s half hanging off her shoulders, but seeing as they’re about to get basically naked, there’s no point in lacing it back up. Henry laughs with her, feeling some of the tension ease. He knows he’s about to bring it right back with his next question, but he just can’t let it go unasked:

“How am I being an idiot?”

Still smiling, Anya fixes him with an almost pitying look.

“About Joey,” she says fondly. “And him asking after your friend.”

 _Fuck. Definitely shouldn’t have asked_ , Henry thinks, immediately feeling his vulnerability from the scene hardening again. He clenches his jaw, biting down on what would probably a very revealing response and instead pulling his shirt off. It’s tricky work, trying to get his head out without fucking up the wig, and Anya helps ease it off with a friendly chuckle.

“It’s not what you think,” she says in a low voice, fixing Henry’s hair where it’s been flattened by the shirt. It’s a charmingly affectionate gesture, and despite himself, Henry feels a smile tug at his lips. “You should talk to him.”

“I _do_ talk to him,” Henry pouts, sounding sullen even to his own ears. Charlotte calls them over to the bed then, and Henry starts working on his trousers rather than looking at Anya’s undoubtedly sardonic expression. When he finally ( _finally_ ) gets the ridiculous leather trousers off, he lies on his side on the bed and lets Charlotte arrange the sheet around his waist, just covering the underwear that Geralt’s not supposed to be wearing. As Anya’s positioning herself on the pillow, she catches Henry’s eye and whispers, “ _Talk to him_.”

He rolls his eyes, tucking a hand under his head and summoning Geralt instead of answering. He pushes his frustration with Anya away for now, pushes everything but Geralt and Yennefer and this bed to the back of his mind. They get through it fairly quickly – the joking tone between Geralt and Yennefer is easy to slip into, as it so resembles his usual playful conversations with Anya, and it’s even fairly effortless to sell Geralt’s love for Yennefer. Being so close to the young, earnest face of Anya and hearing of her longing to be important to someone makes Henry feel sincere in return, without needing to work hard at all. He screws up one or two shots, when Anya’s feather-light caress tickles his cheek and makes him instinctively flinch away, but overall it’s a pretty painless shoot.

He tries to hurry out of the ‘tent’ when Charlotte calls it a wrap, but the crew get to the exit first and block his escape. He sighs, figuring he might as well throw on some clothes, and as he’s sitting on the edge of the bed pulling those stupid leather trousers back on, he’s confronted with Anya standing in front of him, hands on her hips. She looks a little ridiculous because she’s got no top on, and her flesh-coloured nipple covers make it look like she just has no nipples at all, and yet she still manages to make Henry so nervous that he ducks his head.

“Have I done something wrong?” he asks without looking up.

“You haven’t done anything at all, Henry, that’s the problem.”

Henry feels distinctly like he’s twelve years old again, being told off by his mother for spending all day playing on the computer instead of doing his chores – a comparison which stops at the nudity, obviously. He stands up to hike the trousers over his butt, wincing a little at the creaking of the material. When Anya continues to glare him down, despite being half a foot shorter than him and half-nude, he sighs.

“ _Fine_. If I promise to talk to Joey about my friend’s dating situation, will you leave me alone?”

Anya goggles at him for what feels like ages, before bursting into astonished laughter.

“Oh my god,” she manages between giggles, “you _really_ need to talk to him.” She takes a deep breath and seems to compose herself. “Henry, seriously, it is _not_ how you think it is. And if you’re frustrated with me being cryptic,” she carries on, blocking Henry from interrupting, “you can get the full story from Joey.”

And with a syrupy-sweet smile, she goes off in search of a shirt, leaving Henry more confused than he has ever felt in his life.

* * *

The outside air is chilly, and the not-yet-warm leather trousers creak as Henry walks. It’s a good thing they look nice on camera, because they’re an absolute nightmare in real life. He’s already feeling weirdly frustrated by this day, and the constant noise is doing nothing to alleviate it: he can feel his jaw clenching, which makes his latent headache return, which in turn makes the noise feel impossibly louder – he’s just glad he’s done shooting for the day and can finally go home. Kal trots alongside him, happy to be back with his owner after a few hours of being babysat by the writers. The cool air feels icy on Henry’s head, which has been warm all day under the wig, and he’s not sure if that’s helping or hurting his headache.

Someone calls his name from behind him and it makes him wince, both because it makes his head hurt, and because he recognises the voice. Joey bounds up to him with a grin and falls into step, greeting Kal with some truly adorable baby-talk before pressing a cold bottle of water into Henry’s hands. Henry quirks a brow.

“No more coffee, since you need to actually sleep tonight.”

Henry frowns, even more confused, so Joey elaborates:

“Not that seeing you be all grumpy and moody isn’t fun, but you’re easier to work with when you at least act like you want to be here.”

 _Fair enough_ , Henry thinks, even though he wasn’t questioning the _what_ so much as the _why_. He cracks the bottle open and does a little mock toast to Joey before drinking gratefully, feeling the other man’s eyes on him. He comes up for air after downing about two-thirds of the bottle, giving an exaggerated ‘ah’ just to make Joey smile – he’s stupidly pleased when it works.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

He hadn’t meant to ask that – well, at least not in those words – but, well…it’s out there now. Joey’s mouth twists in thought for a moment, like he’s searching for the right words.

“Because you’re having a rough day.”

Henry huffs a laugh; _You’re not wrong there_ , he thinks.

“Clearly a night of drinking has more of an impact at your advanced age, so I figured I’d look out for – _ow_!”

He laughs brightly, rubbing at his ribs as though Henry had given him anything more than a light jab. Henry grins despite himself, unable to resist the melodic lilt of Joey’s laugh, and finishes the rest of his water.

“You’re hungover,” Joey carries on, his tone a little more serious. “I think we all need taking care of when we’re hungover, y’know. Especially at work.”

It’s very reasonable, but also very touching. They reach Henry’s trailer and stop a few steps from the door, Henry fiddling with his empty bottle while Joey tucks his hands in his pockets – having mostly spent the day chatting with the writers and helping with props, he’s wearing his own clothes, a soft-looking grey button-down tucked into brown corduroy trousers. On anybody else it would be an unbearably try-hard look, but it suits Joey to a tee.

“You didn’t need to do that. I feel bad for demanding so much of your attention.”

“You always have my attention,” Joey says, and the way he immediately bites his lip like that might stop anything else spilling out makes it clear he hadn’t meant to say it. “What I _mean_ ,” he tries to cover, flustered, “is that it’s no problem. Not like I had much else to do; I don’t really know why they wanted me here today.”

“Morale, probably,” Henry admits. He’s feeling dangerously emboldened by Joey’s admission, figures he might as well throw one of his own out there: “Being on set is nicer when you’re around.”

Joey ducks his head at the compliment, always too modest for his own good. When he raises it again he looks off to the side, which means Henry gets to keep looking at him, admiring the softness of his hair and the lines of his jaw.

“It’s also nicer when you’re not dragging yourself around like you’ve got one foot in the grave,” Joey teases, “so no drinking with that friend of yours tonight.”

“ _Yes, Mum._ ” Henry puts on his best world-weary teenager voice, pleased when Joey chuckles. “It’s not like I go out that much, anyway.”

Joey nods thoughtfully.

“Was it a special occasion last night, then?”

“Not really. Connor was in Budapest for a night on his way to Prague – he’s on holiday at the moment – and we haven’t seen each other for a while, so we took advantage.”

Joey hums. Kal noses at Henry’s hand, and as he bends down to give him a proper scratch, he feels Joey’s gaze on him. The younger man takes in a deep breath through his nose, and Henry’s shoulders instinctively tense up.

“So you and Connor aren’t dating.”

It’s said musingly, not like a question, and there’s something triumphant in Joey’s tone that makes Henry irrationally annoyed all of a sudden. He straightens up, and he’s embarrassed to feel himself automatically posturing, his back straight and his shoulders set in what he knows is an intimidating stance.

“No, Connor and I aren’t dating – he isn’t even into guys. You could’ve just asked that from the beginning.”

The words are clipped, and it’s his tone more than his posture that has Joey taking a step back, his expression baffled. Henry instantly regrets his outburst, but he’s too over-tired and his ego is too bruised to apologise right away.

“Henry, what? I wasn’t asking –”

He cuts himself off when Henry rolls his eyes.

“Look man, I’m tired as hell and I feel like shit, alright?” Henry sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Please just let it go – I don’t want to end today by being a dick to you.”

Joey looks like a kicked puppy, and he opens his mouth to say something – then sighs.

“Yeah, alright,” he says; Henry instantly hates himself for how dejected he sounds. “See you tomorrow, then.”

The desire to call out to Joey’s retreating back is strong, but the way things have gone so far today, Henry doesn’t trust himself not to make things worse by trying to apologise. He’s too fucking tired and his head hurts – he’s just had enough of this day. Pulling the door to his trailer open, he nudges Kal to jump up before following him in. He already knows that he overreacted, but it felt embarrassingly good to give in to the edge of irritation that’s been tempting him all day, even if he’s already regretting it.

He sighs and pulls the door shut, scrubbing his hands over his face. As he slumps onto the couch, Kal sits obediently in front of him, happily panting in his face with an expectant look. Henry chuckles and pats the spot beside him, letting out a soft ‘oof’ as Kal clambers up beside him and plops his forelegs across his lap.

“Fucking hell, Kal,” Henry mumbles tiredly, pressing his face into his dog’s fur. “What a day.”

He stays like that for a long time, just listening to Kal’s panting and feeling the tickle of his fur against his skin. Eventually he sits up with a groan and ushers Kal off, finally trading the leather trousers for his own well-worn trackpants and Royal Marines hoodie, and he instantly feels better being in some comfy clothes.

When he finally steps out of his trailer, he heads straight for Joey’s before he can talk himself out of it – he knows he was a dick, and he’d rather apologise today than wait until tomorrow morning, when Joey might have already decided that he doesn’t want to hear it. But Joey’s either already gone, or he’s not interested in talking, because there’s no answer when Henry knocks on the door. He gives it about twenty seconds then knocks again, but still no response, so he pulls his phone out and shoots Joey a text:

**Didn’t mean to snap at you just now, and being hungover isn’t an excuse. I’m really sorry**

A few seconds after he hits send, he types out another message:

**Also thanks for taking care of me, I really do appreciate it**

Heading back to his car he feels stupid, and dejected, and ashamed. He puts his phone on silent, not yet ready to see what Joey’s reply is – or if he’s replied at all. Thankfully his drive takes him through some scenic woodland roads that help him take his mind off his own idiocy for a while, and soon enough he and Kal are back inside his rented apartment on the outskirts of Budapest. He toes his shoes off as he lets Kal off his leash, then flicks the heater on – it’s not as cold in the apartment as it is outside, but it’s still chilly.

As he dumps his stuff on the floor by the kitchen bench he pulls out his phone, and he isn’t sure if he feels relief or dread when there’s no message from Joey. There is, however, one from Connor, once again asking if Henry’s pulled his head out of his ass yet – Henry leaves it unopened, certain that Connor won’t be impressed with the story of his day. He puts on some music and leaves his phone on the bench, setting about making himself some dinner.

He’s just finished chopping the last of the vegetables for his (depressingly simple) stir fry when he hears something from the other room. At first he thinks it might be Kal fooling around, but when he turns around he sees the pup making a beeline for the front door, which usually means visitors. He’s only just managed to pause his music when whoever’s outside knocks again. _Bit late for visitors_ , he thinks to himself, wiping his hands on a tea towel as he wanders over. The apartment doesn’t have a peephole, so he drapes the towel over his shoulder and opens the door.

Much like before, he’s not sure if it’s relief or dread he feels when it’s Joey on the other side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really did intend on having a schedule for posting chapters, but every time I finish one I get too excited and just post it. I'm thinking I'll try and do Wednesdays moving forward (even though we're already halfway through the fic, oops).
> 
> As per usual, Henry is an idiot. Next chapter is where we actually get some cuteness, so I promise all this frustration will finally pay off! It honestly boggles my mind that anyone at all has subscribed to this madness, especially since quite a few people have - whoever you are, bless you!
> 
> Hope you're all well and surviving. I'm typing this note with blistered fingers because I've played my bass for about 6 hours instead of doing uni work - such a dedicated student.


	4. It's Whispered in a Hush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re one of those rare people who doesn’t like being pestered about their love life by co-workers, then.” Joey says jokingly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
> 
> Henry’s indescribably glad to see the smirk return to his face – so much so, in fact, that it takes him a second to realise what was just said.
> 
> “Wait – _my_ love life? _That’s_ what you were asking about?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Henry gets his head out of his arse and is able to pick up what Joey’s putting down! Enjoy some heartfelt confessions and mild domesticity – I think it’s what we all need right now. Thank you for being patient with the build-up, I’m never sure if I’m being a tease in a fun way or if it’s just genuinely dragging, but either way, we’re pretty much here at last!

Henry is aware his mouth is hanging open – quite rudely, his mother would say – but he’s struggling to come to terms with the fact that Joey is actually here, at his place, saying hello to his dog (who is _very_ excited, Henry should probably try and save Joey from a dog whose excitement could seriously hurt someone if left unchecked).

“Kal!” he says sternly, “That's enough.”

Kal backs off a little to let Joey stand up, but his tail is still wagging madly, and he can’t quite keep still. The dopey grin on Joey’s face quickly fades when he straightens up and looks at Henry – of everything that’s happened today, seeing Joey’s smile disappear at the sight of him easily makes Henry feel the most shit.

“Hi,” he says. Joey nods.

“Hi.”

It’s…quite awkward. Joey stands there in his adorably puffy coat, not quite looking at Henry, whereas Henry can’t seem to take his eyes off Joey. It’s partly out of disbelief, and partly because Joey’s cheeks and nose are pink from the cold, and Henry doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so delightful. When Joey tucks his hands into his pockets, Henry shakes himself out of his trance.

“Sorry, uh. Come in – come in, please.”

He makes this weird sweeping gesture with his arm, because he’s not quite sure how to act, but thankfully Joey doesn’t comment. Kal follows the man inside, and when Henry shuts the door behind them he realises just how cold the outside air is. Despite the warmth of the apartment, Joey doesn’t unzip his coat. He seems preoccupied with casting his eyes around the place – Henry’s not sure if he’s genuinely curious, or if he just doesn’t want to look at Henry.

“Did you…want to take your coat off?” he asks. Joey’s eyes snap to him, then quickly look away. _Ouch_ , Henry thinks, but he can’t deny that he deserves that. Joey shrugs.

“I don’t want to interrupt, I know you’re probably eating dinner.”

“Just started making it.”

“Oh.”

It’s never been this awkward between them; Henry’s not quite sure what to do.

“I asked Lauren for your address, I hope you don’t mind. I, uh…” Joey trails off, toying with the hem of his jacket.

“Give me your coat,” Henry insists, hoping he sounds well-meaning rather than annoyed. “The heating’s on, you’re gonna cook wearing that.”

Joey shrugs again and unzips his coat. As he ducks his head, Henry thinks he catches a glimpse of a smile on his lips, but it’s gone by the time Joey hands him the garment. Henry hangs it on a hook on the door, beside his own. Joey suddenly looks so much smaller without the heft of his coat, hands shoved in his trouser pockets and shoulders hunched slightly.

“I came to apologise.”

He directs the statement to Henry’s feet. Henry frowns.

“ _You’re_ apologising?”

“Yeah. For, y’know…babying you all day. I didn’t mean to make you feel…I dunno, emasculated, I guess? I know you can take care of yourself.”

For about the millionth time today, Henry feels completely at a loss. Kal sidles away to the kitchen, having grown bored with not being the centre of attention.

“I don’t feel emasculated,” Henry says slowly. “At all. Joey, I’m not annoyed at you for taking care of me. Or, no – I’m not annoyed at you at _all_ , fuck, I’m sorry for making you think that.”

Joey looks at him strangely.

“You clearly _are_ annoyed at me about something. I mean, I may not have known you for a long time, but I know you well enough to know you don’t snap like that without a reason.”

Henry groans, feeling acutely awful.

“ _Fuck_ , what a mess of a day.” He runs a hand through his hair, using the touch to ground himself. “I’m not annoyed _at_ you, mate, seriously. And I’m so, _so_ sorry for snapping at you earlier, you absolutely didn’t deserve that. I’m just…I dunno, my head’s been all over the place today. And it’s not just the hangover, which your ‘babying’ definitely helped with,” he says fervently, glad to see Joey smile at that. “Feel like I need to make that clear – if your idea of babying me is bringing me coffee and making me smile, I’m very happy to be babied.”

 _By you, specifically_ , he doesn’t say. Joey hums thoughtfully.

“So you’re not annoyed _at_ me, which means you’re…what? Annoyed _by_ me? _For_ me? What are the other options, Henry?”

Despite the precipitous situation, it makes Henry feel warm all over to hear Joey say his name.

“I’m…ugh, it’s not _you_ , it’s…” Aware that he’s doing a terrible job of dancing around this, he goes for a more direct approach: “I just got sick of talking about Connor.”

Joey nods like he’d expected that.

“You’re one of those rare people who doesn’t like being pestered about their love life by co-workers, then.” he says jokingly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Henry’s indescribably glad to see the smirk return to his face – so much so, in fact, that it takes him a second to realise what was just said.

“Wait – _my_ love life? _That’s_ what you were asking about?”

“Well, yeah. What, you think I care about this Connor bloke? Sorry, that sounded mean,” Joey says quickly, clearly flustered, “but come on, I’ve never _met_ the guy, why would I care what he’s up to?”

“I thought – you were keen on him,” Henry admits weakly, realising how idiotic he sounds when he says it out loud. Joey laughs in disbelief.

“Henry, I’ve never met him!” he repeats – Henry’s relieved to hear that he sounds more amused than annoyed. “You really thought it’s _him_ I was wondering about?”

Henry stares. For the second time tonight, he’s aware his jaw is hanging open, but he’s got more important things on his mind right now. It’s starting to hit him that something might actually be going right for him today.

“So,” he starts slowly, aware he sounds stupid, but he _really_ doesn’t want to get this wrong – not with Joey, “you weren’t asking if my mate was single because you might want to ask him out?”

Joey rolls his eyes so hard Henry’s amazed he doesn’t pull a muscle, and he’s apparently keen on giving Henry a taste of his own medicine, because his answer is annoyingly coy.

“No. I wasn’t.”

That’s all Henry’s getting, which is…probably fair enough.

“You were asking if _I_ was dating him. Because you wanted to know if _I_ was single.”

Joey chews on his bottom lip, his eyes now locked somewhere over Henry’s right shoulder. He nods.

“Even though you could have just asked me that,” Henry states, laughing when Joey’s eyes snap back to his face to give his best “are-you-fucking-kidding-me?” expression.

“Maybe I wasn’t expecting you to immediately jump to the _least_ logical conclusion,” he insists, his hand gesticulating in an adorably Jaskier-esque way. Henry fights back the urge to grab it, hold it in his own. “And anyhow, it’s not like _you_ couldn’t have just asked me if I wanted to…I don’t know, have dinner with you, now is it?”

Henry can’t argue there.

“I mean, when you say it like _that_ ,” he jokes, earning another eye-roll. He bites down on a smile, one that’s fond and hopeful and very, very relieved.

“Speaking of dinner,” he says slowly, angling his body towards the kitchen. Joey looks at him, expression inscrutable. “I was just about to start making a stir fry. It’s not gonna be very exciting, but…would you like to stay?”

When Joey doesn’t say anything for a moment, he decides to throw caution to the wind. Joey went out on a limb to come here, the least he can do is return the gesture.

“I’d like you to stay.”

It’s worth the few seconds of feeling like he’s teetering on a dizzying ledge to see Joey’s face light up with a smile, which starts out shy and grows as he notes Henry’s seriousness. He doesn’t answer, but he nods, so Henry grins and shows him into the kitchen. The chopped vegetables are still mercifully untouched (it’s always dangerous when Kal is left in the kitchen alone), so Henry sets about getting the right sauces out of the fridge and warming up the frying pan. Joey hovers, uncertain, until Henry tells him to sit down at one of the stools at the counter.

“Can I do anything to help?"

“You can sit down,” Henry reiterates teasingly. Joey rolls his eyes.

“Come on, at least give me something useful to do. I can’t just sit here and look pretty.”

“But you’re so good at it,” Henry quips back, thrilled at the knowledge that he can actually say these kinds of things now. Joey ducks his head, trying and failing to hide his smile. “If you must do something, you can keep Kal entertained. He likes to sit himself right behind me as moral support, which would be adorable if it didn’t make him the world’s fluffiest trip hazard.”

“Now _that_ , I can do,” Joey says happily, and within seconds he’s left his seat and flopped down beside the dog. Kal immediately sets about licking Joey’s face thoroughly, which makes Joey laugh uncontrollably, and Henry feels something swell pleasantly in his chest. Seeing his best friend get along so well with his crush (is Joey still just a crush? Henry’s not entirely sure yet), and hearing Joey laugh so blissfully after such an awful day – it’s a moment so sweet it almost hurts Henry’s teeth.

The dinner-making process goes quickly, and Henry revels in the ease with which he can cook when he doesn’t have a giant dog following his every step. Even though there’s still an important conversation that he and Joey haven’t yet had, the tension that’s plagued them the past few days has abated, and their idle chatter flows easily. Henry discovers that he wasn’t the only one to receive a verbal battering from Anya – apparently while Henry had been hiding away in his trailer this morning, Anya had been relentlessly trying to coach Joey in how to say, “I like you,” in plain terms. Henry laughs when he hears this, and resists the urge to joke that Joey clearly wasn’t a model student, because it’s not like Henry was particularly good at that kind of frankness, either.

Dinner is simple – just vegetables, beef, sauce, and rice – but Joey looks and sounds like a kid in a candy store when Henry places a dish in front of him. They eat at the apartment’s small kitchen table (which, Henry has to admit, he hasn’t yet used – he usually just eats on the couch), and Kal sits himself right between them, constantly looking from one to the other in hopes someone will take pity and drop some food.

“Has he eaten yet?” Joey asks, probably wondering about the truly disgusting strand of drool hanging from Kal’s mouth. Henry grimaces and shakes his head.

“Can’t feed him before I eat. Akitas are a pretty stubborn breed: if he starts thinking he’s the alpha of the house I’m done for. So I eat first, then he gets his dinner.”

Joey looks impressed. “You did your research.”

“Eh, wanted to know what I was getting into. Didn’t want to end up one of those people whose house is ruled by the dog, y’know.”

“I can definitely see Kal running things if you let him,” Joey chuckles. “He’d be the kind of ruler who let the power go to his head.”

“Exactly!” Henry agrees. “He already gets away with murder, I need to hold onto what little control I have.”

Kal looks up at Henry with his most hopeful expression, and manages to look absolutely adorable even with that gross string of saliva dripping from his mouth. Henry grins at him.

“Not a chance,” he says definitively, taking another bite to punctuate his point. Joey laughs.

“You are a cruel master. Look at that face! How can you resist?”

Henry shoots him a look.

“Don’t you dare – I’ve worked hard to maintain the distinction between ‘human’ and ‘dog,’ I will not allow you to come in here and blur it.”

Joey puts one hand up in the air, a pacifying gesture. The other one scoops more food onto his fork.

“I would never undermine your authority like that! Besides, this is actually pretty delicious, no way am I sharing.”

Henry grins, mollified. When they finish, he collects the dishes and puts them in the sink, strictly refusing Joey’s attempts to help clean up. Joey contents himself with patting Kal, who doesn’t seem to mind that he’s just spent about twenty minutes begging to absolutely no avail – either that, or the pats are too good for him to hold a grudge.

“You know, Kal,” he mutters under his breath as he scratches at the dog’s favourite spot behind his ears, “I really think I could get used to this.”

He takes a mouthful of water, swishing it around like it’s mouthwash – he doesn’t want to make assumptions about where this night will go, but he also doesn’t want to get caught with bits of food in his mouth if things _do_ go the way he’s hoping. Kal pants happily in his face, and Joey’s so blissfully happy right now that he doesn’t particularly mind his terrible dog breath. Listening to Kal’s panting and the gentle clatter of Henry washing dishes in the sink, Joey doesn’t think he’s felt so content in years. Eventually he heaves himself out of the chair and ambles into the kitchen, pausing at the door to admire the sight of Henry leaning over the sink – his broad shoulders look positively hulking as he scrubs at a plate, and Joey will forever deny the way his gaze drifts almost instantly to his distressingly perfect ass.

He’s gifted about half a minute to silently admire, and then Kal wanders into the kitchen, the clacking of his nails on the floorboards making Henry glance over his shoulder. He smiles shyly, so Joey smiles back, and he keeps watching while Henry drains the sink and dries his hands on a tea towel. He toys with the towel and leans back against the sink.

“Thank you for dinner,” Joey says. Henry smiles.

“You’re very welcome.” After a second, he adds, “Thank you for staying.”

Then it’s quiet, for a moment. Henry relishes how un-awkward the silence is, how much more comfortable things are between them than what they were a few hours ago. Eventually, Joey sucks in a breath.

“Listen, Henry,” he starts haltingly. “I’m…okay, look, clearly I’m not very good at this whole…the whole…oh, I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

Henry waits patiently, giving Joey time to organise his thoughts rather than jumping in. There’s a part of him that’s petrified Joey’s going to say something along the lines of, “I know I basically said I want to date you before but I’ve since changed my mind and now I’m leaving,” but the rational part of his brain tells him to relax a little.

“I’ve never been good with the games, you know?” Joey continues, looking like he’s gathered himself somewhat. “I can do flirting, but I can’t do the – I don’t know, the _dancing_ , the thing where nobody’s quite sure what the go is, where you’re walking on eggshells because one wrong step might – _ugh_. God, okay, listen: I’m just gonna put it out there, alright? And if you’re not on the same page, just tell me outright and we can forget it all. Okay?”

Henry nods slowly, not quite sure what else to do. Joey’s nerves are palpable, and Henry’s feeling jittery just from proximity. Joey takes a breath, then another.

“I was asking if you and Connor were dating because I like you. A lot. As in – fuck, as in _I_ want to date you. Only if you want that, obviously, but, like, there it is. So, okay – so I’m gonna stop talking now, I feel like my tongue’s about to fall out of my head.”

Henry doesn’t mean to laugh, but the mixture of Joey’s frantic energy and Henry’s intense relief makes him powerless to stop it. Joey grins too, clearly enjoying the new weightlessness brought about by his confession. Henry’s heart is, if possible, pounding even more than before.

“I want that,” he says, unable to school his face into anything but a wide smile. “To date you, I mean,” he hastens to clarify, “not for your tongue to fall out of your head.”

He stops himself from saying something along the lines of, “Quite like your tongue where it is,” but it’s a close call. Joey laughs brightly; Henry’s not sure if his cheeks are still pink from the cold air outside or if he’s blushing, and decides he doesn’t care.

“Okay,” Joey says, after taking a deep breath in. “Okay, wow. I am… _very_ glad that upfront method worked, because I was running out of ideas. It was, uh, starting to look like everything I tried just upset you.”

Henry grimaces, embarrassed.

“Yeah, fuck, sorry. I guess I am kind of an idiot. I’m, uh…not very good at the games either. I’ve only really dated women up to now, they tend to be the ones who tell me how things are.”

Joey nods in understanding.

“Women really are a lot better at explaining how they feel, aren’t they?” he says fondly.

“And a lot better at _identifying_ how they feel in the first place,” Henry adds. “I have to admit, it took me an embarrassingly long time to realise that what I felt for you went beyond just…I dunno, friendly fascination.”

“Fascination?” Joey asks, genuinely curious.

“I’ve never met anyone like you before,” Henry says frankly, “and I mean that in the most complimentary way possible. For ages, I thought I just liked the fact that you’re so…interesting to be around, you know. I’ve never had a friend like you, I thought that was why I kept wanting to be around you all the time. Why I felt so sad whenever I had to say goodbye, even if it was just because work was over.”

Joey’s still leaning against the doorframe, hands on his pockets. Henry thinks he could look at him standing like that – soft and comfortable and in Henry’s space – forever.

“When did you realise –?” Joey asks, clearly unsure how to finish the question.

“When did I realise that I’m basically head-over-heels for you?” Henry helpfully finishes, enjoying the thrilled grin that emerges on Joey’s face. “I don’t really remember an exact moment. I think I just…stopped being an idiot one day and admitted to myself that I really, really like you.”

Joey nods, attempting to keep his face relatively calm.

“Have you, like, dated a guy before?”

“Not, uh – not properly, I guess. Definitely been with guys before, definitely had what I’d call relationships with guys, but nothing…I dunno, nothing properly official. Never had a boyfriend, I guess.”

“I suppose I’d have heard about it if you had,” Joey ponders. “I admit, when I first realised I had actual feelings for you, I looked up whether you’d, uh – oh God, this sounds horrible when I’m actually saying it to your face, but I looked up if you’d dated guys.”

Henry actually feels quite touched by that, and he says as much.

“I suppose that brings up an important question,” Joey says slowly. Henry, already anticipating what he’s likely to ask, jumps in.

“I want to date you,” he states definitively. “Properly. As in – well, I mean, this is all assuming that you want this too, but I do want to date you. I want you to be my boyfriend.”

He finishes weakly, aware he sounds like a fourteen-year-old with their schoolyard crush, but the look on Joey’s face is hopeful enough to quell Henry’s feelings of idiocy.

“Well that’s good to hear,” Joey says, “because the important question I was going to ask was, ‘will you be my boyfriend?’”

Henry laughs joyously, feeling lighter than he has in months.

“Yeah, I do,” he says a little breathlessly – from the laughter or the excitement, he’s not sure. Joey beams at him like Henry’s just made all his dreams come true, and Henry is powerless to do anything but grin back. He feels like things have finally, _finally_ fallen into place, like every weight that has ever burdened his shoulders has been lifted all at once.

“Well then,” Joey says slowly. He pulls his hands out of his pockets, nervously rubbing them against the backs of his trousers. “Seeing as we’ve finally established that we’re on the same page, can I, uh…can I kiss you?”

At thirty-six years old, Henry’s experienced his fair share of firsts already, but he doesn’t think anyone’s ever asked if they could kiss him, certainly not like this – usually it’s him doing the asking. It’s charming, and adorable, and makes Henry feel like a teenager again for what seems like the hundredth time tonight. He bites his lip and nods, and he can’t stop himself from smiling as Joey moves towards him. When he gets close enough, Henry reaches for his hand, delighted when Joey immediately offers it. He clasps it gently, but he doesn’t pull – Joey approaches of his own volition, until he’s nearly pressed up against Henry, who in turn is nearly pressed up against the sink. Joey eyes him for a moment, giving him time to change his mind, but Henry quells any doubt with a soft squeeze of his hand.

He instinctively closes his eyes as Joey leans in, and he wishes he could keep living in this moment forever: the soft heat of Joey’s breath on his lips, the warm, rich smell of Joey’s skin, and eventually – all too soon, and after an unbearable eternity – the feeling of Joey’s lips on his own. His nose is cold against Henry’s cheek, but his mouth is warm, his lips dry and gentle and barely there at first, and Henry delights in how unhurried it all feels. Joey’s tongue is hot when Henry meets it with his own, and Henry decides that actually _this_ is the moment he wants to exist in forever; he could spend the rest of his life sharing this soft, easy, mind-numbingly wonderful kiss with Joey Batey, pressed up against the sink in his apartment in Budapest, completely lost in realisation of a fantasy he’s been indulging in for months.

His reverie is interrupted when he feels Joey breathe in sharply through his nose, and something in the action picks at Henry’s self-restraint. One hand grips Joey’s hand tighter, the other moving to Joey’s hip and pulling him that last inch until their bodies are pressed together. Joey sighs a gentle noise into Henry’s mouth and grabs at the back of his neck, deepening the kiss so much that Henry feels his teeth against his own – he doesn’t hate the sensation, not at all. Joey kisses him like it’s all he’s ever wanted to do, like Henry is something he’s been starved of, and Henry is hit with such a heady wave of emotion that he’s sure his knees would be buckling if he weren’t leant up against the bench. He moves Joey’s hand to his own hip, and Joey doesn’t need any further encouragement to grab at his waist and pull him impossibly closer.

“Fuck,” Joey whispers into his mouth, and Henry feels rather than sees him smile.

Henry responds by shifting his hips, just subtly enough that he can pretend it’s an accident when their (still clothed - why?) cocks meet. Joey groans: he tightens his grip on the back of Henry’s neck and pulls at his hip, keeping them in this new position. It’s Henry’s turn to groan when Joey grinds, just a little, just enough to make Henry feel like his brain has completely evacuated his body. His head drops back, breaking the kiss, and Joey immediately sets upon his neck, his ministrations almost infuriatingly teasing.

“I don’t want to sound presumptuous,” Joey mutters against Henry’s skin, “but should we perhaps move this out of the kitchen?”

Henry thinks he might have given himself whiplash with how hard he nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I discovered something about myself whilst writing this chapter: despite how comfortable I am with writing smut and how easy I find it, I find it _very_ difficult to write about kissing in a convincing way. So hopefully this was suitably evocative, because writing it was a long, surprisingly awkward process. 
> 
> The chapter title is from Split Enz’s ‘Message to my Girl,’ a song I’ve recently rediscovered and played about a million times. As usual, please let me know what you think, attention is my nourishment these days!


	5. Falling Over with the Joy it Brings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You do realise that just because I won’t be shirtless on camera, that doesn’t mean nobody at work will see it, right?” Joey half-laughs, torn between hopelessly turned on and slightly ticklish with how Henry’s breath hits his skin. “I do still have to get in and out of the costumes.”
> 
> Henry chuckles, deep and gravelly. Joey gulps unconsciously, suddenly feeling like a deer in the headlights. Or a deer being stared down by a very hungry – _ravenous_ , even – wolf.
> 
> “Oh dear,” Henry replies teasingly. “That certainly will be difficult for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I am posting early - I finished editing this morning and just couldn't wait any longer. Plus, I have a speech thing on Wednesday when I'd ordinarily post, so better to get it out early. Title is from “If This Ain’t Love (Don’t Know What Is)” by Nicole Willis and the Soul Investigators, which I cannot stop listening to right now. 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful person who compiled and uploaded old recordings of the God’s Jukebox radio show, it’s because of you that this chapter (and my latest two university assignments) got completed. It’s also dedicated, of course, to everyone who’s read, subscribed, left kudos, and commented on the story so far, you are genuinely the reason it’s finished at all. Hope this finale is everything you wanted!

Joey pauses at the door to Henry’s room under the guise of looking around, and Henry has a moment of heart-stopping doubt. Joey shakes his head at the expression on Henry’s face, reassuring.

“Not changing my mind,” he says definitively, “not at all. Just, y’know, need a moment to come to terms with the fact that I’m actually about to get into bed with Henry bloody Cavill.”

Henry smiles shyly.

“I mean, we don’t…you know, we don’t have to go to bed. Like that. If it’s too soon.”

“I know that, but I seriously want to.” Joey punctuates the sentence by stepping into the room and shutting the door (sorry Kal, this doesn’t concern you), backing Henry up until his calves are pressed against the bedframe. He places his hands on Henry’s hips, thumbs automatically rubbing at the soft fabric of Henry’s shirt. “Just bear with me, okay? I’ve wanted this – wanted _you_ , in every way – for months now, so if it’s okay with you, I’d like to relish it.”

Henry smiles and quirks a brow at Joey’s no doubt habitually sarcastic tone. Joey winces.

“I genuinely meant that – if it’s okay with you. Please tell me if it’s not. I don’t want to make you feel like you have to let me draw things out, or like this is only about me.” He presses his forehead against Henry’s shoulder with a soft groan. “Fuck, I need to stop putting my damn foot in my mouth. Please shut me up.”

“I happen to like hearing you talk, regardless of how rambly you feel,” Henry says fondly against Joey’s hair. “And if you’re genuinely flexible enough to get an actual foot in your mouth, tell me now, because I’ll have to alter a few of my plans for you.”

He chuckles when Joey swats at his arm.

“But, if you do insist on me shutting you up…”

He finishes his sentence by kissing Joey again, and he feels the man grin against his lips at what a cheap move that was. They take their time with one another, still learning; Henry feels Joey’s grip on his hips tighten a little when he bites at Joey’s lower lip, and he files that away in his (hopefully ever-growing) folder on how to make Joey tick.

Joey, in turn, learns that if he digs his fingernails lightly into Henry’s waist, Henry will always suck in a sharp breath and deepen the kiss. He abuses the privilege shamelessly, rucking his hands under Henry’s shirt to get direct access to his skin, allowing his nails to dig in a little more sharply. The whole time, he tries not to get lost in the thought of, _this is Henry Cavill I’m kissing – this is Henry fucking Cavill who is moaning into my mouth, holding onto my neck like it’s the only thing keeping him standing_. He does a relatively good job, mostly helped by Henry’s increasingly wandering hands which drag Joey’s mind back to the immediacy of the moment, in which only his and Henry’s bodies matter.

Speaking of bodies, Joey isn’t seeing nearly as much of Henry’s as he’d like. He pulls Henry’s shirt up properly, earning himself a smile from Henry for the way he mutters, “Off, get this off,” as he goes. He stares rapturously as Henry tosses the shirt to the side – he doesn’t like to objectify, and he’s seen enough interviews with Henry to know that he already gets treated like a piece of meat by pretty much everyone, but it’s hard not to let his mouth water at the sight.

“Christ, you’re stunning,” he whispers, his hands mindlessly running over the other man’s shoulders and down his arms, and he returns the blinding smile Henry sends his way. Henry nods at Joey’s chest, silently indicating that he should lose the shirt too, and it’s a testament to how lost in the moment Joey is that he doesn’t feel a mote of self-consciousness at taking his shirt off in front of Henry’s perfectly sculpted self.

When he does get his shirt off, the way Henry stares at him is nothing short of hungry – his eyes rake over Joey’s torso like it’s a cabinet at a deli, and he can’t quite decide what he wants to taste first. He settles on Joey’s collarbones, first with soft kisses and then with slightly sharper bites, and Joey instinctively weaves a hand into Henry’s hair, trying to get closer to that irresistible scrape of Henry’s barely-there stubble against his skin. He comes back to himself a second later, and disentangles his hand to swat at Henry’s head in a half-hearted attempt to berate him.

“Don’t you dare leave marks, Cavill, makeup’ll have my head if I give them extra work.”

Henry hums disappointedly but draws back, surveying Joey’s (criminally un-marked) skin. He spends a moment trying to imagine him in costume, and eventually leans back in, this time attaching himself to the tender skin of Joey’s shoulder, just above the collarbone. Joey attempts a huffy sigh, but it heightens into a whine when Henry sets his teeth in just a little.

“If by some stroke of bad luck I have a shirtless scene in the next week – or two, _fuck_ ,” he amends when the bite turns sharper, knees buckling a little, “I’ll be sending Lauren after you.”

Henry grins, pulling away just long enough to mutter, “Worth it,” in his lover’s ear before kissing gently at his own bite mark. The noises Joey makes shift back and forth between laughter and ecstasy.

“You do realise that just because I won’t be shirtless on camera, that doesn’t mean nobody at work will see it, right?” Joey half-laughs, torn between hopelessly turned on and slightly ticklish with how Henry’s breath hits his skin. “I do still have to get in and out of the costumes.”

Henry chuckles, deep and gravelly. Joey gulps unconsciously, suddenly feeling like a deer in the headlights. Or a deer being stared down by a very hungry – _ravenous_ , even – wolf.

“Oh dear,” Henry replies teasingly. “That certainly will be difficult for you.”

His smirk adds the emphasis that his voice skipped on his last words: “for you.” Joey rolls his eyes – he should have guessed Henry Cavill would be a possessive motherfucker. He’s all old-school charm and courtship, it’s no surprise he likes to show off his lover, and clearly mark who they belong to. Which, _wow_ , okay, Joey can now officially call himself Henry Cavill’s lover. How’s _that_ for a fucking ego boost?

“Are you usually this possessive –,” he pauses to gasp when Henry sucks at a bite mark, making his cock twitch in his trousers, “or shall I chalk this up to character bleed from the White Wolf himself?”

Henry hums with his lips still on Joey’s skin, his hands trailing from Joey’s waist to the opening of his trousers. He plays with the button teasingly, leaning back to admire Joey’s face as he groans with frustration.

“I’m usually not, actually. But with you…”

He trails off, unsure how to articulate himself.

“I can stop.”

Joey shakes his head.

“You’ll do no such thing,” he says fervently, grinning when Henry laughs. “I am in no way complaining about your…carnivorosity? Carnivorism? Carnivorousness?”

He breaks off laughing when Henry swats at his bum.

“ _Point is_ , I’m not complaining at all. And I don’t need an answer, was just curious.”

“I’d give you one if I could,” Henry says quietly. “But I can’t think of anything beyond just, ‘it’s you’.”

The smile that earns him from Joey is nothing short of heart-stopping. He bites his lip.

“I’ll take that happily,” Joey says conclusively. “What I will _also_ happily take is you _actually_ undoing my trousers, you bloody tease.”

Henry laughs, and does exactly that. He’s looking at Joey’s face when he finally gets a hand on the man’s cock, so he gets to see the exact moment his sarcastic expression melts into pure pleasure. Joey’s cock is hot and thick in Henry’s hand, and already achingly hard, if Joey’s unconscious little thrusts are anything to go by. Henry lets go for a second to lick his palm, ease the way, and the way Joey groans when his dick slides back into Henry’s fist is absolutely gorgeous.

“You are fucking beautiful,” Henry whispers reverently.

Joey blushes and buries his head into Henry’s neck, barely concealing a moan when Henry twists his wrist just so. Henry revels in the feeling of Joey’s breath against his neck, their bodies pressed up together, and he finds himself genuinely struggling with the fact that this is actually happening – he’s actually got Joey Batey in his arms, Joey’s cock in his hand, Joey’s breath on his neck quickening from Henry’s ministrations. It makes Henry’s own cock twitch, but right now he’s far more interested in the man in his arms. He bites at Joey’s shoulder again, a little softer this time, and earns himself another moan.

“If you keep doing that, this is going to be over far quicker than either of us want,” Joey mumbles into Henry’s neck. Henry chuckles but concedes, running his thumb around the head of Joey’s cock one more time before letting go. Joey immediately lies him down on the bed, straddling his hips, and he should look ridiculous with his trousers still on and his hard cock hanging out of the opening, but it actually might be the sexiest sight Henry’s ever laid eyes on. Henry starts to lean up, wanting to pull Joey in for a kiss, but he’s stopped by a hand on his chest.

“Just…give me a minute to admire. Please. Also, y’know, might need a minute to calm down a little,” he trails off shyly. Henry nods, settling his outstretched hands on Joey’s hips instead. “Not that looking at your nearly naked body is going to help with that, but…”

Joey’s hands are warm, a little damp even, as they trace Henry’s torso. Over his shoulders and collarbones, down to his chest, down further to his stomach where he plays at the ridges of his ab muscles. He drags his fingers back up via Henry’s sides, a feather-light touch that _just_ tickles, which makes the man squirm a little. Joey smiles widely at the discovery, but doesn’t abuse it. He does, however, take advantage of the way Henry’s squirming makes his dick rut up against his ass and he grinds his own hips down in response, greatly enjoying the open-mouthed moan he gets as a result.

“I prefer when you look like this,” he muses, so quietly Henry’s not entirely sure he was meant to hear it. He quirks a questioning brow.

“Filled out,” Joey clarifies.

Oh. Henry’s not sure how to interpret that. He almost manages to convince himself that Joey is suggesting he’s put on weight – the fact that they shot the scene only yesterday holds no sway over Henry’s self-critique – until Joey clarifies.

“ _Hydrated_ , perhaps, is a better explanation. Don’t get me wrong, you looked fucking _edible_ yesterday –”

Henry resists the urge to preen. Barely.

“– but I know how miserable you were. Right now, you look…I dunno, alive? Healthy? Not that you don’t always look healthy, I mean sweet Jesus, look at you…”

He’s rambling, nerves getting the better of him, so Henry closes a hand over the one that’s currently tracing the dip of his right collarbone. The look of relief on Joey’s face has him drawing that hand to his mouth and kissing Joey’s knuckles before he can really think about it, but if the slackening of Joey’s jaw is anything to go by, it wasn’t exactly a misstep.

“So you prefer your men to look alive?” he asks ponderingly, Joey’s knuckles still pressed to his lips. Joey huffs a laugh and nods.

“It’s much nicer to look at than someone who looks like they’ll swoon if they stand up to fast.”

Henry cringes – on set that day, he’d genuinely had a few close calls.

“Need to know you can keep up with me,” Joey says, so matter-of-fact that it makes Henry blush (though whether it’s from bashfulness or the surge of lust is uncertain). He hums with amusement, pressing one more kiss to Joey’s hand before guiding the man’s index finger into his mouth. He traces his tongue over the underside of his finger as Joey lets out a half-moan of surprise, and he muses at how the interaction of his taste buds and the prints of Joey’s skin feels on his tongue.

“Fuck,” Joey whispers, sliding his hand back just a little before pushing forward again. He marvels at the way saliva spreads across Henry’s lips, the wet heat of his mouth, the way it suddenly seems as though the nerve endings in his finger connect directly to those of his cock. He marvels, too, at just how pliant Henry is. Not only did Joey never imagine he’d have his fingers in the other man’s mouth at _any_ point in his life, he certainly never imagined he’d be given so much power in the situation. He pulls back again, pushing an extra finger into Henry’s devastatingly willing mouth and sighing happily when Henry sucks, just a little.

He tests his position by pushing the pads of his fingers into the soft give of Henry’s tongue, not hard enough to be demanding but enough to be felt. Henry holds his gaze, slowly letting his jaw fall open, and Joey unwittingly copies. He drags his fingers to crook just behind Henry’s bottom teeth and pulls his mouth open wider still, and he can’t stop the groan that drops from his already hanging jaw when Henry _lets_ him.

“You are absolutely beautiful, you know that?”

It’s hushed, reverent, closer to his true feelings than he’d meant it to be, but it’s worth the split-second of freefall in his stomach for the way Henry’s face lights up, the way he holds Joey’s eye like he’ll stop breathing if he looks away. Joey traces wet fingers over Henry’s lip, leaving a glistening trail that he chases with his own tongue. His hips start moving of their own accord, and he bites gently at Henry’s lip when the man’s hands grip hard on his hips.

“Absolutely fucking beautiful,” he repeats into Henry’s mouth, kissing away any reply his lover might have made. They kiss for a long time, taking more time than Joey’s used to for a first time. Not that he’s usually rushed, but it’s not usually this languid, this _easy_ to just revel in the moment. To gloat quietly to nobody in particular that he’s finally here, that his heartache and self-doubt over the last few months has actually come good. It definitely helps that Henry is a devastatingly good kisser, and that he’s letting Joey lead even though he could easily be taking control. _Full of surprises_ , Joey muses as he pulls away.

“And now, I’m having a dilemma,” he mutters, injecting enough mirth into his tone that Henry doesn’t feel a need to panic, “because I was planning on getting your trousers off, but…”

He trails off, intentionally dragging things out. Henry laughs, recognising his game instantly, and trails his hands from Joey’s hips to squeeze his ass as he asks, “But…?”

“But the thing is, you just have the most incredible tongue,” Joey says slowly, tracing a finger along Henry’s bottom lip. Henry smirks, flicking his tongue out and sucking at Joey’s fingertip as if to prove his point.

“Maybe you should test it out,” he says nonchalantly, like that’s not the most devastating thing he could have said. Joey unconsciously grinds his hips down, and Henry meaningfully flicks his eyes down to Joey’s cock, which is still only half-contained by his trousers (though his cock itself is absolutely more than half-hard).

“ _Fuck_ ,” Joey mutters, “you are going to be the death of me, Henry.”

“But what a way to go,” Henry grins, pleased with himself.

He punctuates the sentence by nudging at Joey’s bum, urging him to shuffle up his body. Joey takes a second to actually get his trousers off, finally, then Henry pulls him back so that he’s essentially straddling Henry’s head, his shins kind of resting on his broad shoulders. He’s worried it’s too much, but Henry rests his warm hands on the backs of Joey’s calves and just holds, not trying to keep him there, but just showing that he’s comfortable. Joey has to grab onto the headboard to keep himself grounded – the sight of Henry between his legs is making him kind of lose his mind.

“Okay, Jesus, this is…not a place I ever thought I’d be.”

“Too much?”

“No, fuck no. I’ve never been happier.”

Henry grins, shark-like, and licks his lips while throwing another meaningful glance at Joey’s dick. Joey has to take a deep breath before he leans up, guiding his cock into Henry’s astoundingly willing mouth. It’s almost too much to look at, but he can’t take his eyes away as Henry closes his lips around the tip, immediately swirling his tongue in a way that draws an embarrassing moan straight from Joey’s chest.

The position doesn’t give Henry any leeway to move, really, and after a bit he squeezes at Joey’s calf, urging him to start things off. Joey’s tentative at first, using his grip on the headboard to keep his movements slow and controlled, desperately trying not to overdo it – Henry’s mouth is so perfectly hot and silken, Joey’s just barely holding onto his self-control. But Henry’s eyes stay on Joey’s face the entire time, only a little glazed, and when Joey’s thrusts get a little faster he quirks an eyebrow in a way that that only be described as insolent.

“Don’t do that,” Joey says breathlessly, “I’m hanging on by a fucking thread here.”

Henry’s eyes crinkle at the edges, and Joey imagines he’d be smiling if his mouth weren’t otherwise occupied. When Joey pulls back slightly, Henry leans back enough that Joey’s cock slips out of his mouth. It leaves his lips glistening, and if Joey could manage it without pulling a muscle, he’d be kissing him immediately.

“But I want you to fuck my mouth.”

It’s a beat before Joey can say anything at all – what ends up coming out is a weird croak, because apparently the power of speech has left him entirely.

“And before you ask, yes, I’m sure.”

With that, Henry takes Joey’s cock back in his mouth, giving another squeeze to his calf. Joey starts off slowly again, partly to tease but mostly because he needs a moment to collect himself. Henry’s grip on his leg gets tighter, so Joey thrusts a little deeper, fingers digging into the headboard when he hits the back of Henry’s throat. Henry moans, eyes slipping closed, and the feeling draws an answering moan from Joey.

After that, his control slips; where before he was using the headboard to keep his movements slow, now he merely balances against it while he fucks down into Henry’s mouth. Henry takes it so perfectly, his jaw slack so Joey can basically slide into his throat, and he moans like _he’s_ the one losing his mind rather than Joey.

“Jesus Christ,” Joey groans reverently, “your mouth…”

He trails off into an open-mouthed moan when Henry sucks hard, a playful glint in his eye. Feeling himself getting close, Joey pulls his hips back until just the head stays in Henry’s mouth, and he grins evilly when Henry tries to lean up but is blocked by Joey’s weight. He decides to test his position by pushing his shins harder against Henry’s shoulders, actively holding him down, and he can’t contain the animalistic noise he makes when Henry goes pliant instantly, mouth slightly slack.

“You are just…full of surprises,” Joey marvels, running a thumb over Henry’s cheekbone. Henry just looks up at him – Joey can feel how hard he’s breathing under him, can see how glassy his eyes are. “Who’d have guessed Henry Cavill was a sub?”

He chuckles when Henry does nothing more than smile serenely, and it’s a little comforting to know that Henry’s pretty familiar with the dynamic. Although Joey wouldn’t necessarily consider himself a dom, he usually does end up being the dominant one over his partners, though he’s never been with anyone like Henry (and that applies in any context – kink-wise, face-wise, personality-wise…there’s just nobody like Henry).

“You,” Henry murmurs quietly, his words a little slurred from the thorough use of his tongue, “should come in my mouth.”

Again, Joey is almost at a loss for words. He manages to breathe out a, “Yeah?” just to be sure, and Henry has barely achieved a reassuring nod before Joey’s guiding his cock back into Henry’s mouth, fucking into the wet heat with just barely-controlled vigour.

“God, is there anything you aren’t good at?” he whispers in awe.

Henry moans happily, sucking when he can, mostly just letting his jaw go slack so Joey can use him. It doesn’t take long for Joey to get right back to that edge, and he warns Henry with a hand in his hair, because the power of speech is still just beyond him. Henry catches his eye and holds it, conveying everything his busy mouth can’t, and Joey unwillingly clenches his eyes shut as he careens over the edge. Henry keeps sucking as Joey fucks himself through his orgasm, and the extra sensation keeps Joey’s body tingling far longer than usual, just on the right side of too much.

Eventually he pulls back, trying not to sit his full weight on Henry’s chest, though it’s tough to keep control when he sees what a mess he’s made of Henry’s face. He runs a thumb along Henry’s cheek to catch a stray drop of come, and he feeds it to Henry on instinct, grinning when the man sucks at his thumb happily. He shuffles back a little so his knees are around Henry’s hips again, and when he pulls his thumb away he replaces it with his tongue, aware that it’s probably pretty conceited to chaste the taste of his own jizz in another man’s mouth. If they way Henry moans against his tongue is any indication, though, he has no issue with it whatsoever. They kiss lazily, Joey occasionally breaking away to lick more of his own come from various parts of Henry’s face (even from his _neck_ , Christ, and if that doesn’t get Joey’s cock valiantly trying to get hard again) until the man is mostly clean, and blissfully happy.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Joey whispers for the second time that night, earning himself a self-satisfied smile from his lover.

“Well, before you die…” Henry starts, his voice deliciously gravelly. He glances between Joey’s legs and rocks his own hips up pointedly; Joey snorts, trying to pretend like Henry’s being demanding even as he’s already shuffling down the man’s body, dropping kisses to his collarbone, chest, rib, stomach, until he gets to the waistband of Henry’s jeans.

“How are you still wearing jeans at this time of night?” he ponders, running a finger under the waistband teasingly. Henry groans.

“Well, I was planning on getting changed before dinner, but I got a little…distracted.”

He punctuates the sentence with a not-so-subtle roll of his hips, and Joey would laugh at his impatience if the sight didn’t make his mouth literally water. He runs a teasing palm along Henry’s dick over his jeans, and Henry groans loudly.

“Fuck, okay, I am _so_ on the edge here, angel –”

Joey takes pity and undoes his trousers (quietly preening that Henry Cavill has just called him ‘angel’) and he gives himself a second to admire just how fucking _wet_ Henry’s cock already is before he takes him in his mouth. He doesn’t get very far, unfortunately, because of course Henry has a fucking huge cock on top of everything else, but Henry doesn’t seem to mind – it only takes two or three half-thrusts before Joey’s swallowing his release, unable to take his eyes off Henry’s face as he cries out with pleasure. He feels how tight Henry’s stomach muscles are under his hands, enjoys the slightly bitter taste of him on his tongue, and it shouldn’t be surprising that as soon as Henry’s done thrusting jerkily into his mouth he pulls Joey up for a kiss. _If this is gonna be a thing for us_ , Joey ponders as Henry’s tongue seeks his own taste in Joey’s mouth, _I will die happy_.

“Fucking hell,” Henry sighs when Joey eventually pulls back for air. “That…fuck, that was amazing. You’re amazing.”

Joey grins in agreement, pleased with himself, and he groans happily when he slumps onto the mattress and cuddles into Henry’s side. Henry’s arm wraps around him immediately, stroking at his bare hip, and Joey sets a hand on Henry’s chest so he can feel how hard he’s still breathing. It’s pretty gratifying to know he’s the reason Henry’s so out of breath – he’ll be dining out on that one for a while. They stay like that for a long time, Henry tracing aimless circles into Joey’s skin while they both get their breath back. At some point, a soft whining starts up outside the room, and Henry laughs gently.

“Kal’s feeling left out,” he mutters, and Joey chuckles.

“I think he’s feeling hungry,” he corrects, laughing properly when Henry swears and starts disentangling himself from Joey.

He holds his still-undone jeans up with one hand as he sidles out of the room, and Joey makes himself comfortable on the bed while he listens to the sound of kibble filling a bowl and a spoon scraping around a can – he can also hear Henry apologising to Kal, which is incredibly cute until he hears him quietly intone that it’s Joey’s fault. When Henry appears at the doorway again he stops, just looking, and if Joey weren’t so comfortable he might try and cover himself. Henry’s face, however, convinces him that he has no need to feel self-conscious.

“I probably don’t need to ask at this point, but you will stay tonight, yeah?” Henry asks. His impressive figure makes the uncertainty in his voice even more endearing, and Joey props himself up on his elbows and nods definitively.

“You couldn’t get me out of his bed if you tried,” he jokes, grinning when Henry laughs. Henry stalks towards him, crawling up the bed until he’s holding himself up over Joey’s body, and he kisses him so tenderly you could almost forget that he had Joey’s cock down his throat not half an hour ago.

“Come on,” Henry mumbles as he sits back on his heels, his fingers toying playfully at Joey’s chest hair. “I’m sure I have a spare toothbrush somewhere, and, uh…well, not to be too crass about it, but I need to wash my face.”

He grins when Joey laughs, and he helps the younger man up off the bed. Joey thinks about putting his trousers back on, but then Henry shucks his jeans off and just leaves his boxer-briefs on, so Joey doesn’t even bother. It turns out Henry doesn’t have a spare toothbrush, but he lets Joey use his anyway, and Joey’s weirdly touched by the gesture considering he’s had the other man’s dick in his mouth already. Joey brushes his teeth as Henry washes his face with a cloth, occasionally peeking around the side of it like he’s making sure Joey’s still there.

When Joey finishes brushing his teeth he rinses the toothbrush, and he presses a foamy kiss to Henry’s neck as he puts the toothbrush back in the glass by the sink. Henry pretend-grimaces at the feeling, dropping a light smack on Joey’s bum as the younger man leans over to rise his mouth.

“Oh sorry,” Joey mutters when he’s finished. “Let me get that for you.”

He then licks a line up Henry’s neck to clean off the toothpaste, but the real achievement is the delighted shiver that he draws from his lover. Henry groans softly, fingers gripping at the edge of the counter.

“You’re a menace,” he says affectionately.

Joey just grins, pressing one more kiss to Henry’s neck before he heads back to the bedroom. He disentangles his underwear from his trousers and pulls them back on, not really one for sleeping fully naked, and when he gets back in the bed he’s thrilled to find it’s still warm. After a second he scrambles up again to dig his phone out of his trouser pocket, unsurprised to find four missed calls and about twenty messages – half from Anya, half from Madeleine. Madeleine’s are fairly civil, though definitely probing: she’d been the one to suggest Joey go to Henry’s in person to try and sort things out, and she clearly isn’t sure if the long stretch of silence is a good sign or a terrible one. Anya’s are far more animated, even though she has no idea he’s currently at Henry’s. The general vibe of Anya’s messages is, “Henry’s an idiot and he doesn’t deserve you,” which is a lovely gesture, though not one with which Joey’s inclined to agree right now.

He sends them both the same message:

**managed to sort things out.**

**will explain in the morning x**

His phone immediately starts buzzing, of course, Madeleine’s contact picture lighting up his screen, and he answers before he’s managed to stop laughing.

“What exactly does ‘sort things out’ mean?” Madeleine asks, never one to waste time with greetings.

“I believe I said I’d explain in the morning, Mads” Joey replies sarcastically, grinning when he hears her huff in annoyance. “But, if you must know, I uh…will be staying at his tonight?”

He’s not sure why it comes out as a question – he knows he’s staying here, Henry asked him to stay here. He’s just still coming to terms with the fact that what he’s just said is actually true. Madeleine is too, apparently, if her stunned silence is anything to go by.

“I cannot believe it,” she eventually says, awestruck. “You actually went over there. Oh my god, you have to tell me _everything_!”

“I will, obviously,” he mutters, “but maybe sometime when I’m not lying in his bed.”

Madeleine squeals – actually _squeals_ , good lord – and Joey can’t help but laugh, her excitement is so infectious.

“Oh my _god_ , this is too much. Okay, I’ll let you go and enjoy your time in Henry bloody Cavill’s bed,” she says, laughing, “but we are _so_ talking about this properly. Call me tomorrow?”

“Of course, of course. I was gonna call you anyway, I miss you.”

“Miss you too, darling. You have fun, and be safe, yeah?”

Joey rolls his eyes, resisting the urge to reply with _Yes, Mum_.

“Always am. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

When he hangs up he sees Henry at the door, gazing at him fondly.

“Madeleine,” Joey says by way of explanation. He notices he’s got three new messages from Anya, but decides they can wait for tomorrow. Henry nods, turning off the main light and flicking on a bedside lamp before clambering into the bed, pulling Joey down to lie on his chest. “She, uh…might know. About us.”

He feels Henry shrug.

“Am I supposed to be upset about that?”

Joey laughs and bats half-heartedly at his stomach.

“I still haven’t met her, you know,” Henry muses pointedly. Joey rearranges himself so he’s basically lying on Henry’s front, his chin resting on the man’s chest.

“I’m probably gonna FaceTime her tomorrow, and seeing as we’ll mostly be talking about you, I think it’s only fair you’re involved in the conversation. If you want.”

He toys with Henry’s chest hair while he speaks, grinning at the way Henry sucks in a breath when he starts circling a nipple.

“I’ll introduce you properly when we’re back home, obviously,” he says, his voice deceptively nonchalant as he pinches lightly at Henry’s nipple. Henry groans, and Joey feels his stomach muscles tighten when his hips roll gently.

“First of all, stop it,” Henry says, aiming for stern but landing closer to desperate, “I have to be up at four o’clock tomorrow for the gym. And before you ask, no I can’t skip it – I skipped this morning because I was too hungover, if I miss two days in a row Dave will personally kick down the door and drag me to the gym himself.”

Joey pouts, pinching one more time before he moves his hand away again. He’s disappointed, but not really surprised.

“And secondly, I’d love that,” Henry says softly, running his fingers through Joey’s hair. “I’ve wanted to meet her for ages.”

Joey fails at hiding a smile – who gave Henry permission to be so soft and adorable? He crawls up Henry’s body, dropping a kiss to his lips before he settles himself into his side, with Henry’s arm curled around his body. Henry reaches over and turns the light off, pressing one more kiss to Joey’s forehead. Joey sighs happily.

“Goodnight, babe,” he murmurs, snuggling even closer to Henry’s side.

“Night, angel,” Henry whispers, his breath playing gently at Joey’s hair. Joey finds himself focusing in on the way the rise and fall of Henry’s chest gradually slows and steadies out, but he drifts off before he can figure out if Henry’s asleep or just at peace.

* * *

Henry wakes up to his alarm, like usual. He groans, stopping abruptly when he realises that something – someone – is holding his arm back from turning the alarm off. He quickly reaches out with his other arm, trying to stop the alarm before it wakes his boyfriend ( _his boyfriend_ , he’ll never get tired of that), and he winces when Joey starts shifting around and coming to.

“Sorry,” he whispers, reluctantly extracting his arm form under Joey’s body. “Go back to sleep, angel.”

“Mmph,” Joey mumbles eloquently, face half buried in the pillow. He makes grabby hands vaguely in Henry’s direction when he feels the other man getting out of the bed, whining when he realises it isn’t working. “What time is it?”

“A little after four,” Henry answers, his voice pleasantly rough. Joey whines again.

“Ugh, gross. Too early. Can’t you skip the gym today?”

Henry smiles, whispering another apology when he turns on the bedside lamp.

“We already talked about this, baby,” he says while he pulls on some trackpants, searching in a dresser drawer for some sports socks. “Trust me, you do not want Dave knocking on the door – he makes me look like I’ve never been to the gym a day in my life.”

Joey snorts, groaning a little as he struggles to sit up. Henry opens the bedroom door in search of his runners, and Kal immediately barrels in and jumps on the bed, giving Joey a very slobbery wake-up.

“ _Oof_! Good morning to you too, Kal,” Joey grunts, doing his best to push Kal’s face away. Eventually Kal slumps down on his stomach, panting happily while Joey scratches his back. When Henry comes back in he pauses to grin at the two of them, before he grabs a jumper off the floor and pulls it on.

“You can stay here, if you want. You have your car here, right?”

“I do,” Joey nods, “but can I come with you?”

Henry looks surprised, but he nods. Joey grins.

“Thanks. Since I’m awake anyway, there’s no way I’m missing a chance to see you in action.”

The other man laughs, leaning in to give Kal a quick pat, and give Joey a much longer kiss.

“You see me in action on set all the time, you berk. But in that case, you’d better get up. If Kal gets too comfy there’s no way he’ll get off the bed, and you’ll be pinned there forever.”

Joey makes a thoughtful face, clearly expressing that there are worse ways to go, but he pushes Kal off nonetheless. His body is pleasantly sore when he finally stands, his thighs particularly achy, and he’s a little disappointed to realise that he only has his corduroy trousers from yesterday to wear. Henry, noticing his hesitance, throws him a spare pair of trackpants from the dresser. Joey thanks him, glad to see that he’s given him a pair with a tie at the waist because they’re far too big for him. Henry clearly doesn’t have a problem with the fit, however, because he crowds in behind Joey and nuzzles at his neck, fitting his hands around Joey’s waist.

“They look good on you,” he murmurs, his stubble scratching pleasantly at Joey’s skin. Joey hums, leaning back into the embrace.

“Bet they’d look better off,” he grins, waggling his eyebrows even though Henry can’t see them. Henry laughs, dropping a kiss to Joey’s shoulder before pulling away and gathering up his things. Joey does the same, though it doesn’t take long – he’d really only brought his phone and wallet. And his clothes, which Henry tells him to leave where they are.

“You can get them tonight,” he says easily, which makes Joey feel warm all over.

Henry loads Kal into the back of his car with a grunt, and Joey gets sat into the passenger seat with a kiss. Joey obviously dozes off on the way, because he’s gently shaken awake by Henry when they arrive. Unsurprisingly, there are very few other patrons at the gym at this time of the morning. Henry introduces his trainer, Dave, and Joey finds that it really wasn’t a joke about the trainer making Henry look small – Dave is the most muscular man Joey has ever seen (though he has an unexpectedly delicate handshake, Joey notes).

“I’m impressed by your dedication,” Dave remarks to Joey, blessedly not commenting on the fact that the man’s clearly still half-asleep.

“Figured it’d be fun to see him work up a sweat,” Joey retorts, jutting his chin towards where Henry is doing some light warm-up laps across the floor. Dave laughs heartily, patting Joey on the shoulder (again, surprisingly gentle).

“Smart man. He needs to make up for missing yesterday, too, so I can assure you he’ll be dripping by the end of this.”

It takes all of Joey’s self-control to bite his tongue at that, rather than making some comment about the work-out Henry got last night – which, coincidentally, also left him dripping. Instead he sits himself off to the side against a wall, slinging an arm around Kal when the pup sits beside him.

Joey has no regrets about tagging along – even just in the warm-up, watching Henry work is an absolute delight. He notices that Dave often positions Henry so he’s facing away from Joey, which means Joey gets an unparalleled view of the man’s ass; when Dave sets Henry on some weighted lunges and sends a cheeky wink Joey’s way, Joey clasps his hands in thanks and decides that Dave is his new (second-)favourite person. He settles in, idly petting Kal while he watches, the pup’s warmth providing a perfect pillow.

When a heavy kettlebell drops onto the floor, the vibration shakes Joey out of a doze – he’s not sure quite how long he’s been out, but Henry’s now significantly sweatier than he was last time Joey looked. He groans, sitting himself up properly rather than leaning on Kal, who has been blessedly patient with him. Henry shoots him a grin when he reaches down to pick the kettlebell up again, and Joey rakes his eyes over Henry’s body, biting his lip pointedly.

“Oi,” Dave grunts, “no distracting my client. Your boy still owes me two more circuits.”

Joey raises his hands in surrender, smiling to himself as Henry sets back to his work. It’s embarrassing how much he likes hearing Henry referred to as _his boy_ , but he noticed that Henry made no effort to correct it – good to know.

* * *

He falls asleep again before Henry’s finished working out, but by the time they pull up on set he’s feeling a little more awake. They share one more kiss before getting out of the car, and Joey quietly laments the lack of salty sweat when he kisses at Henry’s jaw. He’s an animal at heart, okay – he won’t deny the disappointment he felt when Henry showered at the gym, before Joey could get his hands on him while he was hot and sweaty. _Another time_ , he thinks, already half-formulating some definitely-not-PG ideas.

They part ways when Henry and Kal duck off to the makeup ladies, and Joey can’t keep the smile off his face as he makes his way towards his own trailer. He’s only a few steps away when he hears someone running up behind him, and he’s just managed to turn around when he gets an armful of Anya.

“ _You_ ,” she says while hugging him fiercely, “have some storytelling to do. _And_ some apologies to make for ignoring my texts.”

Joey laughs as they pull away, nodding toward his trailer, and he clambers in after Anya.

“Well,” he starts coyly, pulling his costume for the day off the rack in the corner and taking his shirt off, “like I said, we sorted things out.”

“And then he sorted _you_ out, by the looks of it,” Anya remarks, nodding pointedly at Joey’s bare shoulders. Joey gasps and slaps a hand over his skin, making a face when he hits a particularly tender spot. Anya just cackles, clapping her hands. “Bloody hell, the White Wolf moniker doesn’t only apply to Geralt, I see.”

Joey laughs too, unable to help it.

“He is a little, uh…bitey,” he grins slyly, grinning as Anya starts laughing anew. He pulls on his costume quickly, because even though it’s a little warmer inside the trailer than outside, it’s still bitterly cold. He sees Anya scrutinising the trackpants, clearly recognising they aren’t his, but thankfully she doesn’t comment.

“So,” she says after a minute, “you’re happy?”

Joey couldn’t contain his grin if he tried.

“Very, yeah.”

“Good,” Anya nods, getting up to pull him into another hug. “You and I are talking about this properly later on, but I actually do need to get ready. But no more sad Joey, yeah? Not that you aren’t adorable when you’re pouting, but I much prefer seeing you smile.”

Joey tightens his grip around her shoulders, a little overwhelmed with affection, before he releases her.

“No more sad Joey,” he agrees. Anya smiles – Joey’s always reminded of how young she really is when she smiles, open and honest and just alarmingly beautiful – then leaves him to get dressed in peace, though not before commenting that he’ll need to do up one more button on Jaskier’s jerkin. Joey discovers that she’s absolutely right when he looks in the mirror – though Henry kept his love bites below the collar, Joey is sporting an impressive expanse of stubble burn. He gives himself a few seconds to poke around, biting his lip when pressing at one of the larger bruises makes his stomach burn with desire.

After about a minute of consideration, he snaps a picture, twisting so he can catch the light just right and show off the stubble burn alongside the impressive bruising. He sends it to Henry, and accompanies it with:

**starting off a nice collection here,**

**wanna help me build on it tonight? x**

He hits send before he can think better of it, then carries on getting ready. He’s just pulling on his boots when he hears the phone buzz, and he will never admit to anyone how quickly he leaps for it.

**You say ‘help’ like I didn’t do all the work there.**

Another message comes in while he’s still chuckling at the first:

**Btw, Jacqui definitely saw that pic over my shoulder.**

**Prepare for a grilling when you get here x**

Joey sighs, pulling his jacket back on – even though the makeup trailer is barely a minute away, there’s still no way he’s going back out there without it. He knows he should feel nervous about people knowing, but honestly, it’s hard to feel anything but proud.

When he steps into the makeup trailer, all eyes set upon him, and the buzz he heard from outside stops immediately. The only person who’ll meet his eye is Jacqui, who gives him an appraising once-over, and Joey can’t help but laugh to himself.

“You can carry on talking about me, it’s alright,” he says brightly, grinning at Henry through the mirror. Jacqui laughs, beckoning him over into a chair.

“As long as I get to inspect the damage in person,” she says conspiratorially, smiling widely when Joey shrugs in resignation. He sneaks a look over at Henry, who is already gazing at him with an unbearably fond look on his face. Joey smiles reassuringly, and Henry smiles back; it makes Joey feel like things might finally be alright – though if the way Jacquie and Ailbhe are gasping at his neck is anything to go by, they might still have a few hurdles to overcome.

As long as he gets to go through this part _with_ Henry, though, rather than without him, he reckons they’ll manage quite nicely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Of course the smut chapter is the longest one – classic me – but it feels like a fitting finale – we get emotional release, the boys get _actual_ release…everybody wins!


	6. (there might not be an epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this notification gets anyone's hopes up.

Hi all,

Sorry if you get an email for this and get excited thinking it's the new chapter, but actually there might not be one at all. Uni really took it out of my this semester, and by the time I got to a point where I felt I could write again, I have no inspiration to keep writing Joey/Henry. So for the moment, consider this fic finished! Maybe one day I'll write the epilogue - I have a pretty clear idea of what it would be, but everything I try to write is just dry as hell, and I figure if I'm not gonna post something good, why post anything? So for anyone who was waiting for the epilogue, sorry to disappoint. Thanks for reading this stupid fic at all, I'm so honoured any of you would spend time engaging with it! I hope what's already there is enough.


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